RECOGNIZING A LACK OF TALENT IS THE GREATEST BLESSING OF ALL

Early in my adolescence, I felt I was destined for the stage. Accordingly, I enrolled in the legendary New York City institute known as the High School of Performing Arts, the subject of the 1980 musical called “Fame,” and noted for such celebrated alumni as Jennifer Aniston, Liza Minnelli, Al Pacino and Robert De Niro.

For four years, I was surrounded by many incredibly gifted future artists in the fields of music, dance and acting.

But I too was blessed with a gift. A rare skill and aptitude only a precious few are fortunate to possess. It is the prized and highly valuable capacity to recognize that I had no talent. I consider it one of the great treasures bestowed upon me.

But even armed with that knowledge, I wasn’t quite ready to toss in the towel. Perhaps, I thought, I could learn the skills I naturally lacked. So I studied acting and was told by the experts that some of the most respected performers of stage and screen developed their skills by studying what is known as the “Stanislavski Method.” It’s a technique that teaches actors to call upon extremely poignant or passionate experiences to bring out an inspiring emotional display on stage.

In due time, I found that a number of my peers were starting to congratulate me, even suggesting they admired my talents, pointing to a specific gift every actor finds an extreme challenge: The ability to cry on demand. My colleagues attributed that ability to my commitment and dedication to the Stanislavski technique allowing me to virtually transform myself to produce such profound emotion that I was able to generate real tears at virtually any moment.

In truth, I was only able to deliver those tears by ripping a hair out of my nose.

To this day, I never confessed that strategy to anyone, although my technique probably could have put those Stanislavski schools out of business.

Clearly, whatever skill I appeared to possess was just an apparition, a revelation that rescued me from what could have been a long and frustrating journey to nowhere. And that is why I continue to maintain that I was blessed with the talent to recognize that I had none.

That’s a gift too many young people lack, probably because their parents have lavished so much unwarranted praise, they only learn of their ineptitude when someone like a Simon Cowell tells them “You sounded like the cat I once sat on.”

That’s why I caution my children to refrain from constantly showering their kids with wanton or gratuitous acclaim. This way, they don’t grow up with misguided or undeserved perceptions. My grandson, for example, probably because of the raucous cheers and thunderous applause he always received whenever he spurned the diaper for the toilet, still insists on taking a bow every time he emerges from the bathroom.

He’s 19.

In fairness, I should confess that I have arrived at a time in my life when a successful turn in the john is cause for celebration.